


The most dangerous thing is to love

by Dweebspace



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, M/M, Minor Violence, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dweebspace/pseuds/Dweebspace
Summary: Veth didn't mean to steal from one of the most powerful mob-bosses of the criminal underworld.Now Caleb owes a debt.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97





	1. Remember the pact of our youth

Caleb had always found some amount of comfort in the fact that Veth didn't steal from poor people. Or even middle-class people, if she could help it. He still doesn't quite understand what it means when she says she 'doesn't steal from happy people', but if reading Robin Hood as a boy had taught him anything it was that stealing from the rich - it is kind of morally excusable.   
Rich people, unfortunately, don't generally find stealing from them agreeable, as evidenced by the very sharp knife that is currently being held against his throat by a tall, dark-haired man with two crossed scars across his face. Somehow, it is more unsettling than if he'd had a gun. 

"You see," the man's companion, a woman with wild red hair in a long, sleeveless coat, says, "Our boss isn't happy with the disappearance of his rather expensive car." Her accent tilts in a way that lets Caleb know she's probably from northern France. "He'd like it back." 

She's holding a much longer knife under Veth's chin and for once in his life, Caleb wishes he'd taken a self-defense class or something, rather than his more bookish extra-curriculars. Veth looks terrified and Caleb's fingers twitch.

"I- well," Veth stammers, her eyes flitting over to make eye-contact with him, before they settle back on the woman, "That's not going to be- entirely... possible?"

Caleb cannot see the woman's face, but he sees the tension in her shoulders. He can't believe Veth stole a _car_ of all things. He knows the Brenatto's aren't well off, between Yeza's medical bills and Luke's schooling, but a _car_? A more pressing question, though, is if these people are willing to kill for a car - or take revenge for a car. He swallows slowly, feeling the drag of the man's knife against his throat.

"And why," the woman asks, tightly, "Is that?"

"I- well, I sold it?"

Veth has a family. As much as Caleb considers her family, she has an actual family that would be lost without her. This cannot be happening.

"You _sold_ it?" Anger coils tightly in the woman's voice, her accent strong enough for a small part of Caleb's brain to determine she's definitely from north-western France. "That car," the woman continues, "contained dozens of contracts. Hard-earned contracts with our suppliers, customers, and employees. Now all of them have to be re-drawn, perhaps re-negotiated. Do you have any idea how much time and money that will cost? Let alone the cost of the car?!"

They're going to die. Because of a _car_. Because of a stupid car that Veth probably sold for way too little money at the shady garage she frequents.

"I- no?" Veth replies, timidly, when it becomes clear the woman is waiting for her to answer.

She crouches, which would normally infuriate Caleb. He hates it when people make fun of Veth because of her height. Now, it just freaks him out more. His hands itch with the need to do _something_ , but what is there to do? 

"Can you get it back?" the woman asks, sweetly. 

"From the Iron Shepherds?" Veth responds, without a beat, disbelief in her voice. The air in the room suddenly feels thick enough that these people's knives just might slice through it.

" _YOU SOLD IT TO THE IRON SHEPHERDS?!_ "

The next sequence of events happens so fast that Caleb can barely make out what happens. The redhead screams, stands up, and swings her arm back in anger- ready to strike. At the same time, the Brenatto's apartment door slams open, and a flash of brown and blue dashes through the room.

"Avantika, stop!" A familiar voice yells as the flash turns into an equally familiar human, now holding onto the redhead's wrist, "Stop, I know them."

"Beau?"

" _Beau_?"

Caleb and the man in front of him look at each other bemusedly. "You know her?" the man asks him, speaking for the first time in a remarkably gentle accent.

"You know them?" the redhead demands of, indeed, one Beauregard Lionett.

"I do," Beau replies, "That's Veth, she works part-time at the library and that-" she points at Caleb, "is Caleb, my roommate from uni. He's one of the smartest guys I've ever met, he helped me through my math class, remember? I never would've graduated without him." 

Caleb's day is so bizarre he can only gape at Beau, as she recounts the very familiar story of their star crossed friendship.

" _He_ 's kind-of-like-a-brother, nerd-brain?" the tall man asks, lowering the knife on Caleb's throat. He'd be offended, but he's much too busy being relieved at the lack of sharp objects near his jugular.

"Yeah!" Beau says, exasperated. "Listen, I've talked to the gentleman. I have a plan. They can pay back their debt."

"Caleb didn't do anything!" Veth pipes up.

" _Caleb_ ," Beau hisses, "Is a rather integral part of the plan that doesn't end with you dead in a ditch."

"I'll do it," Caleb says, "Whatever it is."

"Caleb-" Veth starts to say, but he cuts her off.

"Think of Luke, Veth." The thought quiets her.

Beau sighs, as the tension in the room slowly, ever so slowly, dissipates.

"The gentleman agreed to this plan of yours?" the redhead- Avantika, Beau said- asks, suspiciously.

"Once I told him about the things Caleb can do he was pretty excited, actually."

Avantika narrows her eyes, but then also lowers her knife. Caleb exhales in relief.

"And what is it he can do? Exactly?" says the man in front of Caleb.

Beau breathes in, seemingly relieved. "Thanks, Fjord," she says, and levels Caleb with a stare, "Caleb, what's my mom's birthdate?" He stares back at her, quizically, and replies, "The seventeenth of March, 1968."

The answer earns him raised eyebrows from both their assailants. The dark-haired man, Fjord, seems much less threatening, now that he's just leaning against the table, looking vaguely amused.

"Caleb," Beau prompts him again, "What's 113 times 35 dollars and 81 cents?"

Caleb blinks. "Four-thousand and forty-six dollars," he says, "And fifty-three cents."

The man named Fjord takes out his phone. "Correct," he says, after a few moments of tapping in numbers. He sounds impressed.

"As always," Beau replies, almost smug. "What time is it? Also, what did I wear on my first date with Keg?" 

Caleb frowns. "It's forty-three minutes past ten. You wore a shirt that said 'badass, smart ass, great ass' and the ripped up black jeans. Combat boots. Beauregard, what is happening?"

"Shhh, I'm saving your life," she replies, which is neither comforting nor an answer to his question. She turns to Avantika. "He's a genius. Not just that, he's the genius the gentleman needs right now."

"Fine then," says Avantika, "Let's bring him his genius."

Caleb swallows again, as all eyes in the room turn to rest on him. He feels like a prize pig at a market, about to be sold to these criminals' boss. He looks at Veth, who looks back at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"Okay," he says.

Surely a man called 'the gentleman' can't be that much of a murderous brute.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please know I have no idea where this is going so I hope you're ready for a ride.


	2. Engage with the pain as a motive

A man called 'the Gentleman' sure owns a lot of fancy cars. Caleb was under the impression that Veth _stole_ his car, but when they walk outside, there's a perfectly shiny, sleek, black car in front of the Brenatto's apartment building.

The tall man that'd held a knife to his throat - Fjord - opens the door in the back for them, with a nod that's- well, remarkably friendly, now that he's apparently not supposed to kill Veth and Caleb anymore. Caleb automatically smiles at him, rather awkwardly. He gets a chuckle for his troubles and he ducks out of sight with flushed cheeks. His embarrassment quickly turns into surprise, as he slides into the back of a small limousine. The car hadn't looked like one from the outside.

Veth scrambles into the car behind him, glaring at Fjord the entire time, and it makes the man laugh even louder before he shuts the door behind them. 

"Are you okay?" " _Did they hurt you?_ "

Caleb smiles. He can't even really be angry with Veth - not when she's fussing over him like he's twelve and scraped his knee. How could she have known whose car she stole? She does it all the time, and while it's not something he necessarily approves of, he knows she has little choice. Veth is a thief, sure, but it was ever only buttons or coins or other such trinkets, before. Before her husband Yeza, a brilliant chemist, was recruited by some government agency, got caught up in a massive accident, and was cut loose with little but a thank you and a gigantic hospital debt. After that, she took to stealing cars. 

He grabs her hands, stopping them from checking him for scrapes under his clothes. "We'll figure this out, I promise you, Veth," he tells her, in the few seconds they have between getting in and being joined by their... captors? Escort? 

"It's all my fault," Veth replies, her voice tight with remorse. 

"We'll be okay," Caleb says, as redhead Avantika slides into the passenger's seat. He notices her scowl in the rear-view mirror and guesses another discussion must have taken place outside. He expects the man named Fjord to get into the driver's seat, but instead, the door behind Veth opens again.

"Budge up," says Beau, and Veth scrambles over Caleb's lap as they scoot, to get as far away as possible from Fjord, who gets in after Beau. 

Caleb glances towards the front of the car, quizzically, and watches as a pale hand reaches for the mirror and adjusts it, and in doing so brings a female face with dark, braided hair into view.

"Heterochromia," Caleb says, as he makes eye-contact with the driver. A small smile tugs at the edge of her mouth as they do. A line of black runs down and over her chin. 

"I'm sorry?" 

Caleb looks at Fjord, who has raised an eyebrow at him. He clears his throat. 

"Your driver," he replies, "Your driver has heterochromatic eyes. Different colours."

Beau perks up from slouching in her seat next to Fjord. "Oh! Hey Yasha!"

The driver salutes the rear-view mirror, before she starts the car and smoothly drives them off, to God knows where. 

Caleb sits back in his seat and holds onto Veth's hand for dear life. 

* * *

Caleb realizes, belatedly, that he's stupid. Obviously, someone called 'the Gentleman' has about four different cars in his driveway alone, nevermind the slope at the end of it that probably leads to a garage. 

"Must've been one special car," he comments, absently. Beau snorts in amusement, which he appreciates, but Avantika shoots him a dirty glare that clearly conveys she wishes she could've just stabbed him. 

"These are pleasure," she snaps, "You stole business."

"C'mon, Avantika," Fjord says, as he grabs some things out of the back of the car, "Calm down. I'm fairly sure they didn't know it was the business car, right?" He glances pointedly at Veth. 

"I wouldn't have picked it if I knew it was trouble," Veth says with a shrug. Somehow, it doesn't placate Avantika in the slightest. 

"They sold it to the Shepherds," she says angrily. Fjord takes a step towards her, steely-eyed.

" _Hey!_ "

They all turn towards the car. The driver has gotten out and is leaning on the hood. Her arms are about the size of Caleb's head. 

"Not here," she says. Like Fjord, Yasha the driver has a surprisingly gentle voice, though it's much firmer. Less British. Fjord's accent definitely has some English influences.

Avantika nods. "Alright, to the office." She turns to Caleb, still glaring. "But know this, genius, if you try anything I'll run you through before you've set a step in the wrong direction."  
Caleb doesn't doubt it. 

The house is less surprising, now that he has adjusted his expectations. It's large and expensive-looking, but not in a gaudy, mobster kind of way. The front door leads them into a large, open entrance hall with redwood flooring and tall white ceilings, and twin staircases that lead up to the second floor. Caleb reaches down absently to close Veth's gaping mouth. 

"No itch," he says, and he feels her nod against his hand. 

Fjord gestures towards an archway in the back, but before he's able to lead them into it, a voice calls from above them. 

"What is going on?" 

The voice would've captured Caleb's attention regardless, but the accent in which it speaks piques his interest immediately. Mostly because he cannot place its origins. 

He glances up, curious, and meets the eyes of a tall, tan figure in a purple cardigan. He sports a shock of white, coiffed hair and a delicate looking, steaming teacup. He stands at the top of the right staircase, looking at their group with a sternly raised eyebrow. Caleb's stomach tightens with the realization that he is quite handsome. Could this be the illustrious Gentleman?

"Just taking some people of interest to see your father," Fjord answers. Ah, that's a no on that, then. 

"I thought you were sent to gather information, perhaps-" the man cuts himself off and smiles. Caleb immediately decides he hates it. It looks practiced, fake. Like he's performing an action he knows is expected of him. "Well, nevermind, I'm sure father knows what he's doing, as always. Carry on." He nods at them and makes to turn around, but catches himself. "Oh! If you see Dweez, can you tell him I'm looking for him?" 

"Sure thing," says Fjord. The guy nods, evidently satisfied and disappears into the hallway behind him. 

Caleb can't help himself. "Who was that?" he asks, mostly towards Beau, who is the only ally with knowledge about this situation. She shrugs, uncaring, and replies, "Boss man's son. Bit of a stick up his ass if you ask me." 

The comment earns her a chuckle from Fjord and a glare from Avantika, but neither seem like they disagree. 

"On you go then," Yasha-the-driver says, "I should go park the car. I'll see you later." 

"Bye Yasha!" Beau says, enthousiastically. 

After that, it's a series of long, dark-wooden hallways, tastefully accented with paintings, busts, and deep red curtains. All the doors in the hallway are closed, except for the one at the end, which has been left ajar. Avantika still knocks.

"Come on in!" 

They enter an office, though it's much larger than any teacher's office Caleb has ever occupied. The desk by the large windows is obviously the centerpiece, with a back-view of the lawn. The walls are lined with several bookshelves and paintings and it's all sleek, dark woods with gold-leafed accents and crimson detailing that makes Caleb feel surprisingly at ease. The decor has an antique vibe, without looking dated. 

Caleb notes all of it absently, in the few seconds it takes the figure behind the desk to turn around. Equally as tall as the figure on the stairs, but with black, widow-peaked hair instead of white and a well-groomed goatee. He looks a bit like the villain Caleb has been imagining him to be on the way here, but then he smiles, as though he is exceptionally pleased to see them. 

"Ah, our special guests!" he says and brings his hands together excitedly, "Come in, come in! Beau has told me all about you." Caleb frowns, he's rarely unable to place an accent and now it has happened twice in the same house. 

It takes a gentle push from Beau in his back to get him to step into the study, still holding on to Veth's hand. She actively seems to be trying to hide behind him and Caleb can't fault her, really. 

"You must be Mr. Widogast, then," the man says, "Very pleased to meet you. My name is Babenon Dosal, but you may call me the Gentleman. Everyone does." This is him then.  
Caleb watches warily as the Gentleman walks around his desk. He refuses to be lulled into a false sense of security because of this unexpected charm. He tries to shake the pre-conceived notion of a film-noir mobster with beams of light coming through his half-open blinds.

"And you! You must be the little rascal that stole my car!" he says, sounding particularly not upset about the whole ordeal, despite the knives that were held to their throats on his behalf. "Now don't get me wrong, that'll be quite a hassle," he continues, "But then Beau here told me about your friend Caleb's remarkable capabilities and well, I'd rather make a profit from a bad situation, wouldn't you?" 

Caleb feels, rather than sees, Veth nod, her face still pretty much hidden against his side. 

"I must say I'm also quite impressed with you. Veth, was it? My car is not an easy one to steal." 

"She sold it to the Iron Shepherds." 

Caleb is very happy Beau is here to glare at Avantika on his behalf. 

The Gentleman's smile drops. 

"I'm well aware, Avantika. I do have a GPS on my briefcase. I've made quite sure the documents in it are inaccessible. Don't interrupt me again." 

There it is. The ice in the Gentleman's voice sends a shiver down Caleb's spine. He watches Avantika, who seemed like the biggest threat in the room up until this moment, stiffen and lower her head. 

"My apologies." 

The Gentleman nods and his smile re-appears on his face. "Well, it does leave me in a bit of a pickle in regards to some very important documents. Which is why, given both of your talents, I'd like to offer you a deal." 

Caleb steels himself, still quite unsure of what he agreed to. 

"Firstly, Mrs. Brenatto, you will be demonstrating your skills to some of my employees, so that they may replicate your efforts more... strategically." 

Caleb exhales shakily. That- that isn't quite as bad as anything he would've suspected. Why the Gentleman would have her teach her skills to others, instead of simply having her steal for him, well, that puzzles him. At least she will not be forced to perform more criminal activities than she already has. 

"I can do that," Veth confirms quietly. 

"Wonderful!" the Gentleman exclaims, "Then, you, Mr. Widogast. I must say your friend's unfortunate decision may have quite the fortunate outcome, as I have found myself in need of an accountant. A bookkeeper?" He glances at Fjord, who shrugs. "Well, whatever you want to call it, I'd like for you to keep an eye on my business' financials, as well as keep track of certain deadlines and appointments we must keep. I'm told you have a knack for numbers as well as dates?" 

"And linguistics," Beau says, preening a little, "He speaks like, five languages or something." 

"That is still not what linguistics means, Beauregard," Caleb replies, automatically. It earns him a snort of laughter from Fjord and a delighted chuckle from the Gentleman. 

"He speaks!" he exclaims, "Wonderful. I feel it is fair that each of you will be relieved of your duties once you have earned back the worth of the car. Yes, _each_ , given the inconvenience. Still, it shouldn't take more than a few months, I'm sure we'll have secured a new accountant- bookkeeper? Well, we'll have a replacement by then. Please remind me to give the job a proper title." He directs the last part of his monologue at Beau, who shrugs as well. Despite her proclivity for anger, she seems remarkably chill in the presence of this Gentleman. 

"Oh! And, one last thing. I'm told you are a teacher, yes?" 

Caleb nods. He just finished his second year as a teacher at the local university.

"And you tutored Beau here in her university courses, is that correct?" 

Beau answers in his stead, "He's modest, but he's pretty good. Real patient and shit. My actual teacher just read out equations in class." 

"That settles it then, in addition to your task you will tutor my daughter. With your guidance, perhaps, she will not fail her statistics class this year. I won't hold it against you if she does, don't worry, but it's worth a shot, and well- you owe me!" 

At least one of them seems delighted by the prospect. 

"I'm going to need some kind of verbal agreement from you Mr. Widogast."

"I, er- yes, I will do it. If it helps Veth, I will do it." Caleb thanks the heavens it's the summer holidays. 

"I take it one of your five languages is German, then," the Gentleman comments, amused, "Well, so glad to have that sorted. It's been a delight to meet you." The Gentleman turns to the rest of the group. "Please take Mrs. Brenatto to see M.T. He'll know what to do with her knowledge. Essek should be able to get Mr. Widogast acquainted with the books and- well, I'm sure Genevieve will find you sooner than I can send you to her. Thank you, friends." 

It seems this is their cue, as Beau immediately starts to move towards the door gesturing at Veth. "C'mon Veth, I'll take you to M.T. He's probably in the garage with Yasha." 

Avantika, too, makes for the door, without saying anything. 

"Well, I guess that leaves me to take you to Essek," Fjord says, though there is no resentment in his voice, "He's probably in his lab." 

"Lab?" Caleb manages, before Fjord has him by the arm and makes quick work of sweeping him out the room and down the hall. 

* * *

Of course the house has a lab. Caleb really needs to stop being surprised by these things. It's lovely, too, as far as labs go. Again, he is quite used to the facilities at the university and while it is well funded, it doesn't come close to this privately funded criminal lab. He wonders if they distill drugs here or something. 

"Fjord?" says the accented voice from the staircase, "Can I help you?" 

This explains why Caleb can place neither of their accents, then. This must be Essek, the Gentleman's son. Perhaps he will be brave enough to ask sometime.

He almost laughs at himself. 

"Yes, indeed, sorry to bother you, Essek," Fjord says, smiling at the white-haired man as he appears from behind a rather large microscope, "Your father requested that you show Mr. Widogast here the books." 

"And why is that? I do believe I have them quite well managed myself." 

Uh oh. 

Fjord shrugs, "I don't doubt that, but I'm just here to show him the way and convey the message. Mr. Widogast here is apparently somewhat of a genius." 

"I'm just here to pay off a debt to your father," he says, sounding braver than he probably feels. He hasn't quite processed that he is, in fact, going to be paying off a debt to some kind of criminal, but it's the best argument he has at present. 

"Of course you are," says Essek, dismissively, "Why else would father bring a filthy looking stranger into the house." 

Essek suddenly strikes Caleb as a bit of an arrogant prick, if he's being entirely honest. It's not his fault they got ambushed in the middle of repotting the Brenatto's extensive plant and flower collection. It's hard work and plants need _fertilizer_. 

Fjord raises his hands, "Hey, don't kill the messenger." 

"I suppose it'll allow me more time to focus on other things," Essek replies, with a sigh. "Thank you, Fjord." 

Fjord salutes him and then leaves and suddenly Caleb is alone with the Gentleman's son in a strange house in the middle of nowhere. No Veth, no Beau - even Fjord had been relatively comforting company. He swallows, rubbing his hands against his admittedly dirty jeans. 

"Are you quite alright, you look p-" 

"I'm fine," he replies, going for calm but probably sounding like he's fighting off a bit of a panic. Which he is. "Please, show me to these books." 

And so, he supposes, he begins his new job as a criminal's accountant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I've made Essek the Gentleman's son and therefore Jester's brother. I don't know if it'll come up but Marion is not his mom. Also, I'd like everyone to know that I almost wrote Fjord sjrugs instead of Fjord shrugs. Twice.


	3. Loathe the way they light candles in Rome

It's a bit more complicated than simple books, Essek knows. This Mr. Widogast probably expected transaction ledgers. A straightforward agenda, perhaps files of contract drafts. Not the heaps of leatherbound books written in ciphers.

"You must be joking," he says, absently, as he leaves through the books and files in Essek's office. He supposes Caleb can use it for the time being, until father designates him a room in the house.

Clearly, he isn't joking, but he responds none the less. "I promise you I'm not, Mr. Widogast."

Caleb only frowns at him briefly, before returning to the books. "Caleb will do, I'm not your-" he seems to catch himself, "Caleb is fine."

"Well then, Caleb, we've got our work cut out for us. Only my father and I are currently familiar with the cipher," Essek says, "I'm surprised he's allowing you to learn it." He wonders, briefly, why father didn't consult him on hiring a new- well, a new Abrianna. It's very unlike him.

"Perhaps he plans to make a new one once I'm done." Essek forces himself not to wince. Caleb evidently doesn't know his predecessor. Despite his dismissive attitude, it's clear that cipher intrigues the ginger man, though. He pulls an empty sheet of paper towards him and starts noting down symbols.

" _Done_? I will warn you accounting for my father is a rather endless, and thankless, job." Essek says. He is curious, despite himself, and watches as Caleb accurately translates a few of the more common symbols. He has rather long, elegant fingers. Certainly, he is no stranger to desk jobs. Essek hopes he is somewhat prepared for the other aspects of what this particular job requires.

"Not for me," Caleb replies, "Though I cannot speak for your father's level of gratitude."

The longer he speaks to and observes this man, the more confusing he becomes. He is covered in dirt, yet evidently works a desk job. He has been sent to manage the books, yet doesn't expect to be doing it for long. Bright enough to decode ciphers, yet completely oblivious to what he is getting himself into. It all makes such little sense. 

Caleb seems to note his confusion and sighs. "You'll be happy to know my time with these books will be temporary." He keeps looking at the paper in front of him, jotting down increasingly likely translations. So father hired someone to _temporarily_ manage the books. This guy must certainly be quite something. Or perhaps father believes him to be no threat at all.

"A new cipher will certainly be in order then," Essek says. A brief pause follows before he sighs and gives in. He pulls back the chair next to Caleb and takes a seat. "You're quite right on the shift."

Caleb smiles. He's really, quite contradictory. His clothes are neither expensive nor new. Evidently, he doesn't care that much about his appearance, but he seems to take pride in his wits.

"Thank you. Reading the numbers might go faster if I had the key, though," he says and Essek makes a noise of agreement, as he reaches for a small leatherbound book on the edge of the table. Oddly enough, the appointment book isn't among the stack of books in front of them. Perhaps father is still using it.

It doesn't take long for them to teach Caleb the cipher. He picks it up with surprising ease. From there, it's rather straightforward math and they discuss the different standing payments and what money belongs in which off-shore accounts. Father is rarely interested in the details of it all, but Caleb seems to enjoy the numbers. It feels rather familiar. Shared study. Desks. The whole ordeal might go a bit smoother than expected. It's almost- nice.

Then, the door to Essek's small, second-floor office slams open, and a flash of blue dashes into the room.

" _Where is he?!_ "

"Ah," says Essek, "Jester." 

His sister appears to be done with her classes. Her round, freckled face is practically glowing with excitement, as she comes to a stop in front of Caleb. "Are you him?" she asks. She seems to have re-dyed her hair at some point, as the shade is a bit of a darker blue than usual.

"Welcome home," Essek says dryly, "I'm fine, thank you, how was your day?"

"Shush Essek, I asked him."

Caleb, to his merit, figures out who she is rather quickly.

"You must be Genevieve," he concludes. He glances at Essek, a hint of fear in his eyes. Essek shrugs. Jester tends to have that effect on people. "You have a very similar accent. I am to be your teacher, yes?"

She blows a raspberry at him. "I'm Jester. Genevieve is a dumb name. Are you Caleb? Are you going to teach me statistics?"

"Uh, yeah."

"You look nice. Are you nice?" she asks. "I hope you're nice. A lot of teachers think they shouldn't be nice to me, but you totally can be because we'll just be here at home!"

Essek stands from his seat and a flash of disappointment passes through him at the surprising loss of warmth next to him.

"If he is as nice as he is clean, you're a bit out of luck."

Jester giggles. "You are kinda dirty."

Caleb flushes. A slow, creeping red colour spreads over his cheeks and ears. "I'm sorry did not quite have time to change when your father's people decided- decided to bring me here." His chair scrapes over the floor as he stands, hands clenched into fists.

Both Jester and Essek are staring at him. Jester seems unimpressed, but Essek noticed the pause in his sentence.

"Ooooooh," says Jester, as she leans forward on the desk, "You could've asked to use the bath. It's right across the hall, you know. And it has claws."

It doesn't seem to help Caleb's embarrassment.

"Wow, you guys look tense. Should I come back later?" 

All three of them turn to the door. Beau, who is leaning against the doorframe, looks casual and nonplussed as ever.

"Finally allowed on the second floor are you, Beauregard?" Essek says, disapprovingly.

"Yeah that happens when you deliver a genius and an expert thief, apparently," Beau replies easily. She clicks her tongue when Essek turns back to look at Caleb. "Bingo." 

That certainly explains a lot.

"Anyway," Beau continues, as she pushes herself off of the doorframe. "I've gotta get them home, for now. We're closing up shop for the evening. Something about Sorah and Dweez and the trade-off at the Pillow Tr-" 

"-That's quite enough information for our temporary friend," Essek interrupts, a little annoyed.

Beau seems closer to apologetic than usual, which is still not very, but Caleb is the one to speak up. "That's quite alright, I'm not entirely ignorant. I assume it has something to do with the large sum that was withdrawn from your father's personal account yesterday."

Beau smirks. "See? What'd I tell you?"

Jester nods excitedly, impressed. "That's so cool Caleb. Do you really remember _everything_?"

"To an extent," Caleb replies, nervous once more.

"Cool."

"Very interesting indeed," Essek agrees, as he looks the man up and down. Perhaps he was a little rash in his judgments.

"Yeah, yeah. Caleb's cool. Get with the program." Beau gestures towards the back of the house. "C'mon, we should get going."

Caleb nods and grabs his discarded coat from the chair. Essek hadn't even noticed he'd taken it off. Now that he thinks about it, it's been quite a while since they started going over the books. One glance outside confirms the sun is quite a bit closer to the horizon than it was. It's not quite evening, but getting there.

"Thank you for your time," Caleb says.

"I'm sure it was time well invested."

Colour makes a return to Caleb's face. It really clashes quite terribly with his hair.

"Ja. Thank you."

Beau seems to loose her patience after that and proceeds to drag Caleb out of the room. Essek stares at the open door, bemused.

"He's cuuuuute," Jester informs him.

"Hmm?" Essek replies, "Jester, you have a boyfriend."

"You _don't_ , though." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

* * *

  
Since most of his time won't be spent on the books, now that Caleb is in the picture, Essek decides to join Avantika and Fjord on their trip to the pillow trove. What he hears from them on the way. Well, it illustrates how smart Beauregard is and why they hired her. By pretending to let the details of a secret meeting slip, she deftly diverted the attention away from why it had caused commotion and, more importantly, to what extent. And it was quite an extent. Even father had seemed grim about it. Very unlike him.

"Yasha called in Clay," Fjord informs him. He's driving the four-wheel. Avantika's in the back seat, sharpening her knives with a murderous expression on her face. Not for the first time, Essek appreciates her unwavering loyalty.

Essek shakes his head. Yasha's not a doctor, but something in her past had made her an excellent field medic. Yasha calling in reinforcements- it didn't bode well.

"But they're alive?" he checks.

Fjord nods. "Yeah. We wouldn't be driving to the trove if they weren't."

Essek's gaze snaps towards Fjord. "We know who did it?"

A sharp, metallic grind from the back seat sends shivers over his arms. "Of course we do," Avantika all but snarls.

"The Shepherds," Essek sighs.

Fjord nods again. "There's been a... leak."

"A leak?!"

"You should really talk to your father."

Essek frowns and returns to staring out the car window. Someone had information on the family's business and his father failed to act on it? How very unlike him.

It's not long before Fjord pulls up in front of the Pillow Trove hotel. Father owns it, of course, but it's a regular business most of the time. It appears to have been vacated as much as possible. Calliope Clay appears to be waiting for them outside.

"I thought yasha called in Caduceus Clay?" Essek says, mostly under his breath.

"I thought so" Fjord replies. Essek can feel his own frown deepen.

Nothing about Fjord's demeanor belies his confusion, as he greets the tall woman. "Calliope, lovely to see you, despite the circumstances."

"Good to see you," she replies. "Avantika. Essek."

"If I may, what brings you here?" Essek asks her after she gestures at them to follow.

"Yasha asked for backup."

"Oh, _fuck_." Fjord says, with feeling.

Essek understands why, as soon as he sees a beat-up Sorah sitting on the pent-house couch, the tufts of her hair matted with blood. Most of the furniture in the room is either thrown about or completely smashed.

"By the fucking gods," Avantika says.

"Oh, hi, thanks for coming," Caduceus Clay says, from where he appears to be tending to an uncounscious Dweez. Yasha is leaning against the wall behind him, unharmed, but looking particularly pissed off. As soon as they walk through the door, she pushes off and heads to the kitchenette. Essek gets the feeling she was standing guard.

"What happened," Essek demands, as he heads towards the table Dweez is on, "Is he-"

"He'll be just fine," Clay responds immediately, "A bit of sleep is quite good, actually."

"They knew about the meeting," Sorah says. She accepts a cold pack from Yasha and presses it to the side of her face, but the beginnings of a black eye are already blooming.

"How?!" 

Sorah shrugs.

"We haven't had a meeting here in months," he mutters, perplexed.

"Guess they found the appointment book, then," Avantika says, as though it confirms a pre-existing suspicion.

Sudden fury crawls through his veins.

"And how, exactly, did the Iron Shepherds get their hands on the appointment book?" he asks through his clenched teeth, "and why was this meeting not canceled, or moved at the very least."   
His questions are met with a deafening silence.

_This is not like him._

"Right," he says, making a quick series of executive decisions. "Mr. Clay, I believe you'll be able to assist Dweez much better at the house. We had it equipped to your specifications."

"Are you sure, Mr. Essek? Your father doesn't seem to like that many people around your house."

"My father will understand."

Caduceus nods and beckons Caliope to help him gather his things. Fjord steps in to help immediately.

"Yasha, could you help Sorah to the car?" he asks. Yasha, too, quietly begins to move. "And please, make sure Molly is okay as soon as you're home."

"I will."

"Avantika?" She appears at his elbow immediately. "Call Beau. She should be finished dropping off our guests." He turns to look at the redhead. "You will cancel any and all appointments, withdrawals, deposits, house-calls. Reschedule them if you must. We'll make phone calls in the morning."

"Essek-"

"Avantika, we can't let this happen again. I'll talk to him."

She stares at him for what feels like ages, though it's probably closer to a few seconds, and then sharply turns around.

He takes a deep breath, looking at the wreckage around him, and follows her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I a complete and utter fool for Essek and Caleb studying/working together? I think the fact that it has featured prominently in both fics I've written about them should tell you enough. 
> 
> Anyway, Essek POV, how we feeling?


End file.
